


Two sides of the Law

by SerenaDusk



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Bill Cipher has a gun, Bill is dramatic af, Billford - Freeform, F/M, Ford Pines is a Cop, Ford is so done with his husband, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, I don't speak Italian so bear with me, Italian Bill Cipher, Love Triangles, M/M, Mild Language, Mob Boss Bill Cipher, Renamed Characters, unnecessary drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26811082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenaDusk/pseuds/SerenaDusk
Summary: Ford is Chief of police and Bill is a Mob Boss. They are married, and they are aware of eachother's profession. But give Bill a gun and a syndicate and you get a recipe for drama. Ford loves his husband, but his most common thought is 'really Bill, you had to do that?'
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	Two sides of the Law

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenniWrenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniWrenn/gifts).



**I love you, but you’re an idiot.**

“Boss, are you still hanging in there?” Ronnie sounded concerned when she asked that, and once she parked the car, she turned around to face Bill on the back seat. The mob boss was white as snow but the harsh look in his one real eye never faltered. He was lucky in a way, that he was hit on his left side. “I’m _fine_ , Pyronica, it’s just a flesh wound.” He hissed between clenched teeth, keeping a cloth pressed over the bullet hole in his shoulder, right underneath the ripped edge of his sleeve. Bill had torn it off before it could stick in the wound. The female driver thought he was mad and went silent, just opened the door for him and followed her boss as he left the garage, paced down the dark corridors, and eventually stopped in the smaller meeting room. “Get Amor, here will you? Tell him to hurry his ass up.” The ‘Dream Demon’ told Ronnie when she hesitated at the door. She usually wouldn’t have followed him at all, but today she was scared he would collapse or something. The blood stain on his shirt was still growing after all. But when he gave her the order, she reacted immediately and went to find the medic Bill had bought into the organization after one of his men died because he would rather bleed to death than go to jail.

Meanwhile Bill sank down on his regular chair, uttering an impressive series of curses, half of them in Italian, and all of them directed at the one who shot him in the first place. It had been in the heat of the moment, and he knew that. It was the risk he took when going out in the field himself, but of all people to worry about, the Chief of Police had not been very high on his list, not even in the direct shootout they ended up in today. But here he was, with a ruined button up shirt, blood streaming down his arm, and a lot of pain. Stanford Pines would find out soon enough that a bad aim was a terrible habit when it came to confrontations with the notorious gangster. But first, Bill needed to get this hole patched up before he would lose too much blood. Luckily, Ronnie was fast enough and got Amor to the meeting room in no time, with his kit. “Pyronica mentioned you got shot.” Was all the medic said before sitting down and taking a look at the wound. “It looks like nothing vital was hit.” He muttered while examining the place and amount of blood that trickled down the arm. “As far as I can see, you have two options. I can stitch you up, which is going to hurt now, but it will let you heal faster, or I can patch it up, which is less painful now, but you risk a lot more scarring and a longer recovery period.” Bill glared at the ceiling for a second, trying to think what the best option was now. Then he thought of something. “Patch it up. Mess with the wound as little as you can.” He said, attempting a smirk, but with the pain it looked more like a grimace. Amor didn’t like that expression all too much but did as he was told.

When the man was done and excused himself, the mob boss called in his captains to discuss the course action for now. He did make a point of changing into a clean shirt first. The bloodied one he dropped on the middle of table, and while his men filled the room, he adjusted his signature eyepatch, keeping his real eye on the door, greeting everyone with a single nod. Since he wore a short-sleeved shirt now, most of his people gave a nod back, let their eyes linger on the bandage for a second and took their regular place in the room. Only when they were all seated, did Bill’s second in command open his mouth. “Who are we killing?” A very direct question, which was usual for the guy, but today, it earned him a glare. “Nobody. I did not call the full board to kill one person.” Bill ‘The Dream Demon’ Cipher wasn’t planning to kill the one who shot him, not at all. He had other plans, but he needed his guys informed, otherwise they would get weird ideas in their head if they would meet the man who was responsible for the injury. “But boss, you got shot. Or are they already dead?” one of the others remarked, and now the boss managed a smile. “I got shot. Really now? What gave you that idea?” The sarcasm in his voice alone was almost enough to make every person in the room think twice about what they were going to say next. “And to answer your question, no. They are still alive. And we are not going to kill him. We will make him pay, but not with his life.” He placed his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. He wasn’t wearing his usual gloves for some reason, and his wedding ring glittered on his left hand. His Consigliere, seated on his left side as always noticed it right away and frowned, tilting his head for a second. Bill caught the movement from the corner of his working eye and turned. “Yes Kryptos?” He asked with another smirk on his face.

Kryptos looked from Bill’s face, to his hand, to the bandage, and then to the bloodied shirt on the middle of the table. His eyes went wide. “I thought he had such a good aim.” The Consigliere stuttered, and the boss gave a nod. “He does, but today it failed him, and I found myself on the wrong side of a bullet.” The captains were very confused, both by the words and the softer tone their boss was using. They weren’t very eager to just downright ask, since Bill could get very unpredictable at times, but they had to know what was going on. “Boss, what’s going on?” It was eventually one of the younger ones who dared to drop the question they all had on their mind. The gangster looked up and tilted his head. “As my right hand here stated earlier, I got shot. That’s what going on. Kryptos already figured out who did it, and I refuse to believe the rest of you are complete morons.” Bill answered, not yet giving them the answer, they wanted. He knew damn well they wouldn’t know. Not many of them had actually met the man, which was part of the reason why he had decided to have a meeting before setting the plan he was forming in motion. It would perhaps be a bit of a bombshell, but now was as good a time as ever to fill his people in. Yet he would leave them to suffer through the uncertainty for a few seconds longer before leaning back in his comfortable leather chair and giving the captains a look. “I got shot by mister Big Shot himself. That’s right, the Chief of Police and I decided to go out in the field on the same day.”

One of the men shifted in his place and looked at Bill. He was actually the one responsible for the theft and robbery part of this business and had been in contact with the man more than most. He also knew the true extent of that statement from his boss. “Stanford Pines is the one who shot you? Kryptos is right, he has an impeccable aim, how did this happen?” He leaned forward, and Bill leaned his head back. “Who knows, Keyhole, who knows? Got up on the wrong foot maybe? I don’t know, I didn’t notice anything off about him this morning.” Bill rubbed his forehead and leaned forward again, chuckling at the sight of the younger captains and their confused faces. “This morning?” Oh, the sound of their confusion. “What? You think I leave for work without having breakfast with my husband?” The boss dropped the bombshell and watched confusion and panic break out among the rookies. Some of them started protesting that their boss was a traitor and how they would all be arrested, or worse. This went on for a while, until Bill planted a knife in the table, right through the shirt, on the place where his heart would have been if he was wearing it. “Silence.” He hissed, and immediately the room went dead silent. Seeing Bill angry wasn’t high on any of their wish list. “Ford and I got married years ago, before he got promoted to the position he has now. A position I helped securing for him. Does any of you really believe I am not looking out for my people?”

They all looked down, some in guilt, others hiding smirks. The latter was coming from those who already knew they connection between the sharp shooting Chief and their boss. “Why wasn’t I informed about the fact Pines is a dirty cop?” The one who usually handled the bribery asked confused. He was really fresh into this position, hence why Bill had not yet gotten him up to date. “Because he’s not. If any of you is stupid enough to get caught, he will follow the law any time, unless I give him a really good reason not to. You all know to honour the Omerta when you get caught, so I suggest you stick to that. Ford is not on our side, and even in this room, I am the only one safe from him, Capiche?” Bill wasn’t playing around. He wanted to make very clear that his husband was very good at what he did and was a force to be reckoned with in their ranks. “However, in the light of what happened today, I am going to give you all instructions. If _anyone_ in our family lays a finger on him without my explicit permission, I will make sure to erase your entire family from existence without batting an eye. The Chief of Police will soon be a lot less out of reach physically, but you all will keep your pretty hands off him and treat him well, or your blood while form the new décor of this meeting room, and your teeth will be found in the presidents Golf Course.” No need to be subtle, Bill knew his men understood the language of violence better than anything else. “Capiche.” It was a collective answer, and it pleased the boss greatly. “Good, then we can talk repercussions.”

That statement caused some uncomfortable whispering again, with an undertone of confusion. Bill was losing his patience. “Just because I married him, doesn’t mean I will let him walk away after shooting me. Hector, I need two of your people, and an unmarked van with driver at my house by midnight, armed but loaded with blanks. Only one real bullet.” The boss was getting down to business again. Abductions weren’t uncommon, but this was different. They had to follow a very specific course of actions, or they would meet the wrath of the one-eyed gangster. “I will tell him what they are coming for beforehand, and he knows that questioning me isn’t really going anywhere. Not that I think he will want to, after causing this.” Bill gestured at the bandage. “When you arrive here with him, I am not stopping you, or the boys you select for this task, from blindfolding him, but as I said, no permanent damage or I will have your head. And I will be checking. Do not test me unless you wish your son to go on an indefinite holiday to the bottom of the ocean.” After making sure that they all got the message one more time, Bill looked at the time and got up. “I will be heading home now, so you all know what to do. Those who don’t have things do, get out of here in time or we get suspicious activity reports again, and my shredder is getting overheated.” With that, the boss left the room, straight to the garage, where Ronnie was just done with getting rid of the scratches and holes from the shootout that day. “Good work, Pyronica. You know how much you lowered our expenses when it comes to cars? It’s been a great help.” Bill was in a much better mood now that he had his plan ready.

The ride to the house was mostly quiet apart from that. Bill took the time to change shirts again, to something a little less obviously mafia related. Ronnie didn’t even look at it anymore. She knew very well her boss did not swing that way. The first time it happened she had been a little flustered. The gangster had made it pretty clear that she was to ignore that, or he would get someone else to drive his car. Ronnie was very quick to assure him that it wouldn’t happen again, and stuck to that ever since, so further awkwardness was avoided. Bill just buttoned up his new shirt and rolled down the sleeves. While the bandage would have been covered just fine had he kept them up to the elbows, he preferred to have them down all the way, just in case. The worst part was actually trying to get his jacket sit right without hurting him, and Ronnie caught a small part of Bill’s elaborate arsenal of fine Italian curses, most of them addressed at his husband. Not in a malicious way, just out of frustration. Eventually he got the thing to sit right without the zippers resting over the wound though, and he finally removed the eyepatch, revealing the highly realistic glass eye underneath; the last part of the ‘disguise’ that separated Bill Cipher from the Dream Demon. He was still unsure how it was possible that he wasn’t caught yet. There weren’t that many blondes with Italian accents around town after all. The gangster had asked his husband a couple of times if the Chief was maybe destroying evidence, but it wasn’t the case. Eventually they all had contributed it to the fact his fedora hid most of his hair, and the tampered videos the syndicate sometimes sent out had distorted his voice enough to keep him anonymous. Bill wouldn’t suggest the cops were incompetent, he knew they weren’t.

When they arrived at the home, Bill got out on his own. Out here, they held up the story that Pyronica was simply a co-worker who happened to take almost the same route home and dropped him off. Sometimes neighbours would whisper why a man who lived in such a big house wouldn’t just buy himself another car, but nobody questioned him directly, making it easy for the gangster to just ignore them. After all, as long as they were whispering about why he didn’t have a second car, they wouldn’t start to question why they lived in such a fancy house in the first place. Surely, they would figure out quickly that Ford’s salary, even with the rank he had, would not be enough to afford it. As he unlocked the gates, Bill glanced at the neighbouring houses for a second, chuckling to himself as he saw the light curtains move. Nosy as always, and the main reason he had to be so careful with hiding his injuries and true profession outside the safety of his home, or the syndicate. An extra element of mystery was something he would rarely pass on, but sometimes he had the almost uncontrollable urge to order a hit on the surrounding houses, even if it was just to get them to stop putting their nose in his business. Today it just amused him though, considering what they might see if they were still up around midnight. It would be interesting, and he had to remember to adjust the surveillance cameras before the time was there, or they might catch faces, and the mob boss wasn’t going to have his own people be arrested over this.

Ford wasn’t home yet, so Bill had the time to prepare a few things, such as the cameras before he settled on the couch with a newspaper, waiting for his husband to end his shift. The mob boss knew exactly when that would be, considering he had seen the Chief on duty earlier that day. And the result of that was still stinging a little. All in all, it wasn’t all that strange that when Ford Pines walked through the front door of his house, he would find his gangster husband on the couch, glaring daggers at him. He pretended not to see it while hanging up his jacket and putting his gun and other equipment in the safe. Only then did he turn to Bill and took a deep breath. He knew exactly what was coming, and he deserved it too. “So, how was work?” The Chief asked with a forced smile. It didn’t help much. His husband really wasn’t happy with him at the moment. “How was my day at work? Well, let’s see. We calculated a 40% reduction in car repairs thanks to Ronnie’s team, removed the management from of the casinos in the other district, and what else was there? Oh right. You _shot_ me.” Those last three words were almost thrown at Ford and caused him to cringe. “I know. I’m sorry. On the bright side, if anyone ever suspected either of us to be something other than enemies, they won’t now.” Ford tried to make the best of it and sat down next to Bill, carefully trailing his hand over the injured shoulder. The mob boss winced when his husband’s fingers went over the wound. “Careful Sixer, it’s only patched up for now.” He removed the hand and held it for a second. They were large, with an extra finger, hence the nickname. Usually Bill loved the sensation of that hand on him, but right now he was still angry.

“Why didn’t you get it stitched up? If I remember well, you have a medic in your hands these days. I would have thought he would have stitched it immediately.” Ford had a concerned look in his eyes, but his husband didn’t answer. “What happened, Sixer? You usually have such a good aim, why did it go wrong today?” Bill looked up at his husband. His anger was getting less intense, he had a soft spot for the Chief, and he knew it too. And of course, it was never Ford’s intention to injure him. That didn’t mean Bill would let it go like that, but he wasn’t going to keep glaring at him. He had other plans after all. His husband sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I am afraid that I can only bring more bad news here. Someone from another department was transferred to mine. An old friend, you know him well. Fiddleford is joining us, and we both know that there is no better inspector to be found in the entire country.” He sighed and Bill leaned back, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “Porca miseria.” He muttered to himself, causing Ford to raise an eyebrow. “If you’re going to curse, do it in a language I understand, please. Don’t need you to insult Fiddleford behind my back while I’m in the room.” He mentioned, getting up from the couch. “Let me make dinner.” Bill looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think you can make up for the fact there’s a bullet hole in my shoulder with food.” He mumbled, but his expression said otherwise. Ford just chuckled and went to the kitchen, leaving Bill free to mutter another series of curses at his husband.

The Chief of police did feel really bad about the incident earlier that day. The fact Fiddleford was joining his department was going to be a problem. Bill was too good at what he did and was catching the attention from the big guys higher up. He knew very well that asking the gangster to toning it down would have zero effect, but he was worried someone would break the code of silence and rat the Dream Demon out. Ford wasn’t really fond of the idea of the mess that would bring. Because he was right there in the line of fire too. No way they could continue to hide the fact he married the local mob boss if Bill would end up in jail. Maybe they were lucky Fiddleford was the designated detective to get on this case though because they both knew him. Ford just hoped thigs wouldn’t get weird, working with his ex-boyfriend on a case about his husband. Alright, it was already weird. When did his life turn into one, giant scheme? Probably the day he met the gangster in the first place. Not that he was complaining about that fact. The Chief loved his husband very much, but everything would have been a lot easier if Bill had a normal job. No matter how good the gangster was at faking it, reality was that the Dream Demon was not a mediator. Not in the slightest, and it was a mystery why the gangster had chosen to hide behind a job in law enforcement. For some reason, his husband always got a bit defensive when it came to that subject, and Ford really didn’t think it was a good idea to irritate Bill even more than he already had today.

Luckily, he knew damn well how to get his husband in a better mood. There was one plus side about marrying into a famiglia. Italians knew how to cook, and a couple of the wives of Bill’s capos had taught him quite a few of the traditional dishes, including the Dream Demon’s favourite one. He’d been meaning to make that one for a few days now, and hopefully it would at least make up a little for the shooting earlier. Ford glanced back at his husband every now and then, waiting for the moment he would recognize the scent. When he did, Bill couldn’t stop the smile he felt coming up. “I knew it was a good idea to introduce you to the ladies.” He mumbled and decided he could as well help out, so he made the table. It took a bit of effort, given that he was trying to spare his left arm for now. Later, when it would be properly stitched, he’d be able to use it like normal again, he hoped. But right now, he tried to avoid bleeding through the bandage. Only a few more hours before he would be able to get it properly treated. It wasn’t that Amor wasn’t capable of handling this. After all, he had chosen to only get the bandage. Bill needed that gunshot wound to still be open later. But he would only explain Ford what would be happening after they both had eaten. The Chief sometimes got really cranky over the gangster’s plans if he got roped in before dinner. Very counterproductive. And besides, it would be a waste of good Cacciatore if they would eat it over a disagreement. No, food first, plan later. Damn that smell was good.

Ford didn’t let him down, and the Italian curses were replaced by compliments, which the chief didn’t understand any more than the swear from earlier. The tone however, made enough clear for the Chief to get him to smile. “You always get in a better mood after a good meal.” He commented, and Bill just chuckled. “You cook like a castaligna, Sixer. And that’s not on me. Anyway, to get back at that thing you mentioned when you came home, about nobody suspecting you and I, or rather, you and the Dream Demon have any sort of contact besides the fact you shot him, that isn’t true.” The gangster leaned back with a glass of wine and gave his husband a smile, internally laughing at the alarmed expression that appeared on Ford’s face. “What do you mean?” The chief asked carefully, but the gangster took his time before answering the question. “Well, the thing is, if you go around and just shoot me, there is about a dozen of my capos that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head as revenge. And I can’t just let them shoot you, can I?” He had a really hard time to not burst into laughter at this point. “I have informed them that you and I are a little more than just the average enemies.” He leaned forward again and set the empty glass down. “They weren’t exactly happy with you. Called me traitor. Me, of all people.” His voice got softer, but his smirk was still in place, causing Ford to put his glass down very carefully and look his husband over. “I assume that you did something about that?” He asked, feeling himself tense up. An angry syndicate was something he wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone his own husband. The gangster chuckled. “Oh of course. Like I said, I’m not going to let them just shoot you.” He got up and moved around the table, back to the living room, but on his way, he leaned over Ford and whispered in his ear: “If anyone is ever going to shoot you, you can bet that it’s going to be me.”

The Chief’s head snapped around to get a good look at Bill’s face, but he was too late to see if it was a joke or not. His husband just chuckled and set himself back on the couch, igniting a cigar, despite the fact Ford had asked him many times to not smoke in there. Today he would hold his tongue though, knowing fully well he had not made up for the fact he put a hole in Bill’s shoulder. Speaking of that, he’d better ask, before his husband would come up with something insane, as usual. Ford loved Bill, he really did. But a bit less Italian drama would be a lot better for his blood pressure. “Bill, I know you said you understood that it wasn’t my intention to just shoot you, but you dropped the subject a bit too quickly.” He rubbed the back of his head, not completely sure how to address this without putting ideas into the gangster’s head. And indeed, his husband reacted immediately. He looked up with a smirk. “Oh, don’t worry, Sixer. I haven’t forgotten about it, just waited for the right moment. Don’t worry, you will pay for this, and sooner than you think too.” He answered before blowing a cloud of smoke into the room. The Chief narrowed his eyes. “Pay for this? Bill, what did you do?” He was getting more suspicious, and the devious smirk on the face of the other wasn’t helping at all. “Sit down Ford, smoke one with me, will you? They were just lying around in that house. Otherwise your people would have confiscated them. Murder scene and all.” The gangster was unimpressed with Ford’s attempts to interrogate him, as he always was.

This time though, the Chief didn’t budge, so Bill just sighed. “Are you ever going to play along? Of course not. But don’t worry. All that is going to happen is that around midnight, I will have a couple of guys here to abduct you.” He leaned back as Ford sat down in one of the fine leather chairs. “I assume you selected better people than last time you attempted that. The pair you assigned then were just insulting. I thought you valued me more than that.” He answered. Protesting would come later, maybe. “Oh, don’t worry. I have since then replaced the captain in charge of that line of business. The old one is buried deeper than even your dogs can find, so don’t bother with that. Hector is very capable of finding suited associates for the job. Try not to shoot them too.” The mob boss always had an answer but did think back about last time he meant to have Ford taken out of the equation for a while. For some reason two absolute morons had been assigned to that job, and Bill had made sure they didn’t survive in prison for long. When it came to his syndicate, failure was not an option. Hector had already proven to be very good at what he did, and always managed to pick the right people for the job. Bill chuckled at the glare he saw on Ford’s face now. He wasn’t all too worried about what was going to happen. “What’s the story behind it this time?” The Chief eventually sighed, sounding incredibly exasperated, which made sense. “Revenge, mostly. I’m sure that your entire department knows that you managed to shoot me. And so, the syndicate will be taking revenge. After that, I need a few things where I don’t need the cops, so it would come in handy if their Chief is in my hands.”

It went silent in the room for a few minutes. Bill was in a much better mood than earlier, but his husband wasn’t as thrilled with all of this. He hadn’t met most of the mobster’s higher ranked confidants, but if the Dream Demon’s methods were any sort of indication of how they worked, he wasn’t expecting much good. Bill seemed to notice the mild fear in his husband and tilted his head. “Sixer, I would have expected anger, not fear. It looks wrong on your face.” The mob boss got up and walked around the chair where his husband was brooding on something. He wrapped his arms around Ford’s shoulders from behind. “You don’t think I will let anything happen to you, right? My people have been given strict orders to treat you well. Nobody will touch you without my explicit permission, and even then, they won’t hurt you unless they really have a death wish. And trust me, if they did have one, there would be less painful ways to die than by my hands. No, you won’t be in danger. Even if you haven’t met some of them yet, they won’t hurt you. They remember last time someone stepped out of line, I’m sure of that.” Bill whispered in Ford’s ear with a smile. The Chief sighed deeply. “Sometimes I really, really hate you.” He mumbled but folded his hands around Bill’s anyway. The gangster chuckled. “I love you too. And trust me. You will be safer with my people than I am with yours. And that says a lot.” The mob boss had a point, and his husband knew that very well. But that didn’t mean he’d have to like it. But then he saw the other side of this story and he rolled his eyes so hard he feared he popped a blood vessel. “Is this your idea of an excuse to play out your dramatic fantasies?” He asked and Bill gave him a playful smack on the back of his head. “Sixer, I can’t believe you would think such a horrible thing.”

Ford wasn’t convinced. “You realized you’re going to have to put up a show when they take me away.” He mentioned, and Bill couldn’t hide his glee. “Of course. After all, I would want my husband to come home safely. What am I going to do without him to protect me? There are dangerous gangsters in town, and they already broke into my house and shot me in my arm. I’m only alive because my husband complied to their demands.” His obviously fake desperate tone caused Ford to laugh. He couldn’t help himself. “Do you have to be so Italian?” He asked after managing to get a hold of himself, and Bill moved so he was in front of his husband again. “Don’t give me that attitude, Sixer. You and I both know you wouldn’t want to go without the perks that my nationality gives me. And I have to admit I was counting on a lot more protesting from you. I’d almost think you were up to something.” Ford was about to answer that, but on the other hand didn’t really want to. He knew protesting was pointless, since the plan was made already, and he had to admit it was a good way to explain why the Dream Demon and Bill Cipher had an identical gunshot wound in their shoulder. The gangster let his hand slide over his husband’s jaw for a second, before trailing down to his chest, and leaning in closer. “I know I’m joking, but never stop keeping me safe.” He gave a sly grin, his fingers closing around Ford’s tie. Before the Chief had his answer ready, Bill pulled him closer and silenced his husband effectively. Sometimes a kiss was all it took.

Today might not be one of those days though. Ford knew very well what his husband wanted, but he had to stop him this time, even if he didn’t want to. The reluctance in his voice was obvious when he actually spoke up, but the chief had to be the smartest person in the room every now and then. “Bill, with that arm of yours, and with what will be happening later, maybe we shouldn’t. You need rest. I don’t know exactly how far it is from where we ran into eachother to your base of operations, but I saw the blood when I hit you.” It really hadn’t been the best sight, immediately after their boss got shot, the rest of Bill’s people closed ranks and formed a wall between the cops and the Dream Demon. Ronnie had been there to get him in the car immediately, before any of the police corps managed to break through the defences. It had all happened so fast, that literally the last thing Ford had seen from his husband was the bullet hitting his shoulder and a red stain spreading over his shirt before his view was blocked. It was a moment he had genuinely struggled to keep up the charade. Sometimes he wished Bill would give up his life of crime and settle down. He didn’t have to continue for the money, they had more than enough to live off Ford’s salary only, but the chief knew that it wasn’t the reason the mob boss continued doing this work. Mafia wasn’t something you could just quit. The syndicate was more or less Bill’s chaotic, criminal family. And a family the gangster loved dearly, so much was clear. Despite the fact they were all notorious gangsters, whenever Ford did have grounds to arrest any member of the syndicate, they were the most polite and well-adjusted people he ever had in the back of his car. It was _almost_ unsettling.

Yes, the Dream Demon took very good care of his people. If he didn’t have the habit of killing people in their beds, he wouldn’t even be so high on the wanted list. Yes, the reason Bill got his nickname was because he would catch people sleeping, wake them up, and _then_ shoot them in the head. But to Ford, he was a dream demon for a whole other reason. But not tonight. Not before that wound was at least properly stitched up. Of course, Bill complained a lot, mixing a few Italian curses in it, but his husband wasn’t having any of it and eventually just picked him up and carried him over to their bedroom. “Bill, you and I aren’t getting a lot of sleep this night, and with what happened, you need rest. And I would prefer to get at least a bit of sleep before I am forced to let low-ranked criminals in my house, and take me away for the sole reason of keeping my husband from being shot in the head.” He rolled his eyes at that last part as he put Bill down on the bed. The mob boss adjusted his position a little but didn’t make much attempt to get up and ready to sleep. “What are you complaining about, mi Tesoro? You are basically heading towards a paid vacation. My work has only just started. I’m going to have to stage a crime scene in my own house. And from what I’ve heard, I’m going to have to sit through being questioned by your ex-boyfriend. I really hope Fiddleford is going to stay professional about this. I don’t want to be forced to shoot him. He’s a good man, just way too smart for his own good.” The gangster carefully stretched, wincing shortly. “Next time just aim right and shoot me in the head, will you? This is very inconvenient for all of us.” He mumbled. Ford wasn’t happy. He didn’t like jokes like those, and Bill knew that very well.

It was forgiven quickly enough, and it didn’t take long before silence fell over the house. In his heart, the Dream Demon was grateful for his husband being this set on getting sleep before the show would start. Getting shot was exhausting, and the blood loss really didn’t help. For that reason, the mob boss was sound asleep when they gangsters broke into the house. Well, used the key Bill had given his second in command for very special circumstances, such as this one. He was lucky Hector really was good at what he did, or he could have been in a lot of trouble. Because the gangster woke up to a hand covering his mouth. The light was turned on and he squinted his one real eye against the sudden light. Ford was already kept on gunpoint, but everyone seemed to be awaiting further commands. Bill sat up and gave a short nod. “Eccellente, boys. Right on time too. I have given my instructions and I suggest you follow them.” He yawned a little but glared immediately when they roughly turned Ford around and bound his hands behind his back. “I thought I was very clear when I told Hector that you are to treat him well. If I find anything on him beyond scrapes from that rope, you will be lucky if half of your family is allowed to live.” Bill was not playing around when it came to his husband’s safety. “Bring him to Hector. He knows what room I have in mind for him.” Ford moved a little. “Any idea how long before you are able to join me?” He sounded calm enough, which was a relief. The gangster shook his head. “It depends on how quick your people are with the investigation I suppose. When they’re out, it shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes. I have Ronnie standing by to come get me as soon as I can. But I will call first.”

Part of the reason Ford wasn’t protesting more was because he knew how his men worked. With the house a crime scene, Bill would probably be relocated to one of the safehouses across town. It would be interesting to see how the gangster was planning to lead the syndicate while being kept in protective custody. His men didn’t fool around with safety measures, especially not if it had anything to do with their boss, or his family. For now though, he had to endure the sight of his husband unwrapping the bandage from his arm while one of the gangsters pointed a gun at the bed and took a shot at the place where Bill’s arm would be. Immediately after, the mob boss put his arm over the hole, right as the blood started pouring out. Ford moved again, guilt creeping up on him when he saw the concealed pain on his husband’s face. “Take him out of here, don’t stop once. Hurry, I’m sure the neighbours heard the gun and are calling the police already.” Bill hissed through clenched teeth. The chief tried to voice an apology but was abruptly cut off as the intruders dragged him away. The mob boss winced and cursed the wound in his arm once again. He reached for the phone and called the emergency number. Time to play a game, and hopefully he would be given some nice painkillers. Next time he needed to kidnap his own husband, hopefully the reason wouldn’t be a gunshot wound. While the phone on the other side rang, Bill looked out the window and watched a black van take off. He couldn’t make out the license plate, which was good. If the boys stuck to the plan now, everything would be fine. And they knew better than to cross him like that. Nonetheless, it would be best not to leave them alone with him for too long. Hopefully the cops would be quick.

Right as the phone on the other side was picked up, Bill heard Ford’s pager beep. When he checked, he saw his own address, meaning the neighbours had indeed called the numbers as well. But he was already on the phone anyway, so he just let the dispatcher know where he was, what happened, and what he needed. The woman on the other end informed him that there was already a police squad on the way, but that an ambulance would be sent out immediately. He was asked to stay on the phone until they got there, and the mob boss complied. He was a hardened criminal, yes. But he wasn’t immune to pain, and it did not feel good to let the wound stay untreated like this. But the dispatcher told him not to wrap anything over it, because it might stick to the wound and only get him in more trouble. The woman assured him that he would be fine, and there was nothing he could do now, other than wait for the proper authorities to show up. Bill did not agree with her, but he was already biting his tongue to not start cursing at her, so he just went with it. But the ten minutes it eventually took the police officers and the ambulance to get to him felt like an eternity. He didn’t know how much blood he’d lost by then, but he sure wasn’t feeling good.

Luckily the EMTs were quick to examine the wound, state that nothing major was hit, confirming what Amor told him, and stitching him up. Sadly, only local numbness instead of a general painkiller, but Bill would take it for now. He needed to answer the cops after all. With how he felt now, he effortlessly slipped into the role of desperate husband. He explained how the gangsters broke into his house, how they threatened him and Ford. The rest of the statement was slightly less coherent due to the fact Bill had managed to actually start crying. Reality was that he was more exhausted than scared of course, but it worked, so who cared. He told the cops surrounding him that the gangsters had been shouting about revenge, how Ford had attempted to defend them both until the intruders shot Bill in the arm and threatened to actually kill him unless the chief complied. “He just tried to protect me. All he did was try to keep me safe, and they took him!” His voice shot up at the end of that final sentence. “Mister Cipher try to calm down, you lost a lot of blood. Officers, please be easy on him.” One of the EMTs spoke sternly, handing Bill a cup of tea. He didn’t protest, though he would have rather had a good cup of coffee. He wasn’t much of a tea person. The gangster was asked a few more questions about possible missing items, but the intruders had not taken anything but Ford. No money, nothing from the Chief’s equipment, no files, it really was just about the man. Just about revenge. A few of the officers were whispering to eachother and Bill caught just enough of it to understand they didn’t expect to find him back alive.

The mob boss was about to let them know he heard that when the journalists showed up. Great, more nosy idiots meddling in his business. Bill cursed himself for not thinking of that. Of course, when someone with Ford’s reputation was abducted, it would attract the media. Well, all he could do now was play the whole game again. It didn’t take long before he had no less than three cameras in his face. “He was just doing his job! Please, just let him come home. Please don’t hurt him.” The desperation in Bill’s voice now was due to the fact he wanted to be left alone, so he could actually get on with it and be with his husband. But as usual, reporters didn’t know when to bugger off. The neighbours who called the emergency number in the first place came out of their houses. The police first took their statements before the media swarmed them to get witness reports. And then Bill had to deal with the fact he had to thank them for reacting so quickly when they heard the gunshot. Now that the pain in his arm was gone, thanks to the numbing they put in his arm, he had at least one less thing to get worked up over, but now he had to deal with _people_. Bloody hell, why did this drag on for so long? It felt like he had been doing this for at least four hours, but the clock said it had been only an hour since the boys drove off with Ford. That meant that they would probably be at the headquarters by now. Hector would lock the chief up until Bill would arrive. Hopefully, his husband would be able to get some sleep.

The mob boss had not even realized he had completely zoned out until an EMT snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Try to stay alert for now, mister Cipher. Drifting off now is not a good idea.” He warned, and Bill nodded shortly, biting back one of his favourite Italian insults. The deputy chief, who was in charge now that Ford was taken away, walked up to him. The gangster knew him well. Dan Corduroy was young for his rank, but very capable. Yet with him, Bill wasn’t worried in the slightest that his cover would be blown. The man was good, but he just didn’t have the brain Ford had. He did make up for it in muscles though. Had he been on Bill’s side of the law, he would have had a very secure job as his permanent bodyguard. “Sir, the house is a crime scene now and you can’t stay here. In the light of what happened, you will be transported to a safehouse until we have finished the investigation of the house, and we are sure that you are not in danger.” Dan stated, and Bill flinched shortly. Dammit. “I understand, Dan. When are we leaving?” He asked flatly, trying to hide his anger. “Tomorrow morning, we have to prepare the safehouse first. Do you have a safe address to stay until then? If not, we will make arrangements for you at the station.” The deputy chief answered, and the gangster sighed in relief, which luckily went unnoticed. “I do. I have a trusted co-worker; her name is Ronnie-Anne. I can call her at any time of the day. Ford doesn’t know her address, so he can’t tell them if I go there.” He answered after seemingly thinking about it.

Dan gave him permission to call her, and Ronnie showed up no more than fifteen minutes later. The cops did a quick background check and finally cleared her, allowing her to help Bill pack some things and get in the car with her. The car was soundproof enough for them to discuss a few things on the way to her house. The mob boss would have preferred to drive straight to the headquarters, but they had a police escort and couldn’t get out of that without putting Ronnie very high on the wanted list. “Boss, you’re very pale.” Pyronica commented, and Bill sighed. “Yes, I know. I lost more blood than I would have hoped. Any word from base?” He asked, and she nodded shortly. “They arrived safely. I don’t know anything else, boss. Sorry.” The gangster shook his head. “It’s fine, Ronnie. I asked to lay low as much as possible. But I really hope I don’t need an armed escort too often. It’s pointless.” He groaned and adjusted his shoulders a little. “Ford Pines, I love you, but did you really have to shoot me?” He mumbled at the dashboard. “We’re almost there.” Ronnie commented, and Bill looked up. “Grazie a Dio per quello.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.


End file.
